


Invisible Strings

by KiwiChick42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Feels, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Only For Episode 1 & 2, Season 11 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiChick42/pseuds/KiwiChick42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 11 Canon Divergent - Cas doesn't have the attack dog spell, but is still separated from the brothers. They find him. Stuff happens. Feels. I don't know what else to put that isn't a spoiler. I fail at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisible Strings

**Author's Note:**

> I should have been working on my other fic, but this wouldn't leave me alone since the second episode of season 11. Yeah, its Canon divergent, but i wanted to write about what would happen if the head thing worked. 
> 
> Let me know what you all think, i haven't written a fic that's based in the show before, so yeah. I also posted this at ass o'clock, so any more edits i will go over in the morning. 
> 
> SPOILERS for SEASON 11 - if you haven't seen episode 1 or 2, this might give stuff away?
> 
> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Oh and let me know what other tags i should include, i'm still learning there :)

“Have you got something of his?”

Sam looked at him out of the corner of his eye, from where he was huddled over the front of the car, studying the map. Dean just grimaced and walked around to the trunk of the Impala.

_Did he have something of his?_

Of course he fucking did.

He popped the trunk, chewing on his lip as he reached carefully into the back. His fingers found the familiar silky material, and his heart stuttered. It would be a pretty shitty idea to get all _emotional_. He had to stay focused and on point, it was the only way they would get him back.

Dean clutched the thin strip of material in his hand as he rounded the car back to where Sam was hovering. His brother looked at him, and then glanced down at the thing in his hand.

“Really, Dean?” Sam looked pinched, like he couldn’t decide whether to bitch Dean out about the tie he was holding, or to wrap him up in his stupidly long arms.

“Just get on with it.” He threw the tie at him, and his brother caught it deftly. Sam murmured something, likely Latin, and dipped it in the mixture. Dean hadn’t paid much attention when Sam had put it together, but he knew there was goat’s blood involved. Suddenly, the tie came to life, twisting and turning, writhing in its efforts to pinpoint its targets location.

It stopped, pointing directly at a block of abandoned warehouses. Of course, that seemed like the goddamned go too place to keep someone.

Sam gathered the map and his supplies off the hood while Dean threw the rest of their stuff in the back seat. Sam had tracked the GPS on his phone to some sister – wife of a hick town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, leather creaking and whining under his grip. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat beaded on his brow.

He felt as if he were preparing for another battle, another in the long line of shit that they had had to deal with over the years. After the mark had disappeared… he thought maybe they would catch a break, get some time to gather themselves. But no, of course the damn Darkness had to rain on their parade.

The Impala crept along as Sam craned his head up and around, searching for the right building. Dean could almost feel it; he knew he was there somewhere. It was too deserted, to _quiet._

“Dean, there.” He eased the breaks and squinted to see where Sam was pointing. A few blocks ahead of them, two suspicious as fuck looking dudes stood outside a lone door. The suits alone looked out of place, and Dean knew they had found their prey.

As quietly as they could, Dean and Sam left the Impala behind a dumpster, taking only what they needed. Those fluttering fuckers were surprisingly easy to kill, hell; they’d fought ghosts that were harder to take out.

Dean motioned for Sam to take out the left one, while he went for the right. They had to do it silently, or the dudes inside would be alerted. The building had an alcove they used to their advantage, grabbing their respective targets at the same time, in sync after years of practise.

The angel gasped as the silver blade pierced right through his chest, his brief moan of pain muffled by Dean’s hand. He dropped the body quickly; making sure Sam had done the same.

He nodded to his brother, angel blade held high, as they prepared to enter the building. He didn’t know what they were going to find once they got inside. His stomach turned with the knowledge that they could be too late, but he pushed it away. He would know if he had gone. Their connection was… it was too deep for simple earth logic.

Sam seemed to have the same idea, because he threw his arm out, catching Dean before he could bust through the door.

“Dean, if – if we go in there and find… if he’s dead –” Dean looked at Sam sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sam! He’s not dead. He can’t be.” Dean gritted his teeth and refused to admit his voice wavered. They were wasting precious time; they should be in there, saving him.

“Ok, ok, I get it. But… if everything goes to shit, we’ll make them pay.” He just nodded at Sam, thankful for his brother’s support. They both knew what Dean’s capacity for revenge could be.

Taking a breath, he eased open the door. Dean went right, blade held high, while Sam feinted left, looking around for signs of angels. They had their plan B, but that was only a last resort.

Dean swung around when he heard talking and groaning coming from a room off to their right. Dean motioned for Sam, wide eyes and nudging head indicative enough for him to follow.

Standing either side of the door, Dean breathed a small sigh of relief when it eased open without a squeak. Apparently the universe was on their side for a change.

Very carefully, Dean peeked around the corner, and he was grateful for his brother’s firm grip on his arm. Two angels stood in front of the figure strung from the sealing. They had their arms folded, and seemed to be studying their victim.

“You must understand, Castiel, in order for you to earn salvation, you must be reborn.” Dean gritted his teeth and he swore he heard his jaw crack. Sam held him back, though, waiting for their chance. The angels parted, and Dean went cold.

Cas was tied to the roof, manacles encircling his bleeding wrists. His head was encased in some kind of _device,_ it looked strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. Cas, the ridiculous son of a bitch, just smirked.

“You can shove your salvation up your junkless asses.” Dean hastily covered his snort, and even Sam shook silently beside him. Cas was a snarky little shit and Dean was so proud.

“We do not need your cooperation, Castiel. It will only make it more _uncomfortable_ if you resist.” They moved forwards, and Dean knew it was now or never. Creeping into the room, Dean saw Cas’ eyes widen only slightly in recognition, before Sam and Dean sunk their blades deep into their enemies. Their lifeless bodies slumped to the floor, and Dean took the opportunity to give Cas a once over.

There was blood crusted around his eyes, and running down his arms. His head was bleeding where those damn needles dug into his flesh. Sam reached up and managed to unhook the angel, but he slumped forward, unsteady on his feet. Dean caught him, giving himself a moment to wrap his arms around the angels back, lowering him slowly to the floor.

“I got you Cas, you’re ok,” Cas clutched at him, and he felt unusually weak considering he was an angel of the lord. Dean frowned, because of all the things he thought of Cas, _weak_ wasn’t one of them. He turned to Sam, who was biting his lip and frowning.

“Dude, how do we get this thing off?” Sam’s eyes snapped to Dean, and he wasn’t comforted by the look of fear in Sam’s eyes. Sam was the brains of the operation; he could get the creepy contraption off the angel. He watched as Sam dragged a big hand through his long hair, and looked around.

“Gimme a minute, Dean.” Cas groaned, so Deans attention was pulled away from his obviously stressed out sibling. Dean angled Cas so he could lean up against his chest, head carefully bent so the metal didn’t dig in further.

“How you feelin’ Cas?” He brushed his fingers lightly over the skin of Cas’ neck, just ghosting over the short hairs at the base. Cas shivered, and Dean felt his heart speed up. He was so close to being ready to admit his feelings to the angel, it had taken _years,_ but he was finally there. He’d accepted himself, and what he felt. It was _ok_ to love, to _feel,_ because it was _Cas,_ and no one had ever meant as much to him as the angel, except Sam, of course.

“I have a headache, Dean.” He smirked, even in the face of god knows what, his angel still had such a messed up sense of humour.

“Sam’s gonna fix it, don’t you worry,” Dean wasn’t worried, well, not _that much,_ because for whatever reason, the universe seemed to want them to stay together. No matter what happened, how many times either of them _died,_ they always found their way back to each other. He still feared for his friend, because he hated seeing him in pain.

“My brothers… They were trying to reset me. I asked them for help and they…” Dean could feel Cas shaking, and it scared the crap out of him. He could feel the ever simmering pool of anger start to roil at the thought of the dick bag angels treating Cas that way. Sure, he’d caused some trouble, but who hadn’t? He had paid his dues, fuck, he’d gone to _purgatory,_ wasn’t that punishment enough?

Dean just wanted to hold the other man and chase all his fears away.

“Don’t worry about those feathered fuckers. We’re gonna fix you, we’re gonna kick the darkness’ ass, and then we’re gonna take some time for ourselves, ok?” Dean smiled, to show he was being firm but kind. He didn’t want Cas to think he was telling him off. Cas just smiled at him.

“I would like that, Dean. It would be nice to actually enjoy some of heavens creations, without the threat of being maimed or killed.” Dean chuckled, because Cas was right. He couldn’t even remember the last time him and Sam had gone on vacation, without either looking for, or finding, a case.

“Dean, can I talk to you?” He looked up when he heard Sam’s worried voice, and his face matched his tone. Dean narrowed his eyes and squeezed Cas, because like hell he was letting him go for a second.

“Go talk to Sam, I’m not going anywhere.” The way Cas said it sent little shivers of pleasure down his spine, the promise of something… that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. So he leaned Cas up against the concrete pillar behind them and with a reassuring pat to the arm, Dean left Cas to follow Sam to the other side of the room.

“So what, do you think we could get him back to the bunker, or do you have to do it here?” Sam was biting his lip and fidgeting, and Dean did _not_ take that as a good sign. “What is it, Sam? Just spit it out!”

“I think we have to do it quick, I mean, look at him,” They both looked over at Cas, who had his eyes closed and was visibly shaking against the pillar. “I just – I don’t know how it’s gonna go, ok? I haven’t done anything like it before, and there is like, _no_ baseline for this. I – I need you to prepare yourself in case it goes wrong.” Dean looked at Sam hard, for once thinking about what he was gonna say, before he said it. He needed Sam to know that whatever happened, he would _not_ blame him. Dean knew his brother would try his best, despite the odds. Hell, when were the odds ever in their favour?

“I know that whatever happens, you would have tried your best. If – if he dies, then that’s just shit luck, ok?” Dean would deny the wobble in his voice until his next dying day, but Sam levelled him with a soft gaze nonetheless.

“I think… I know you were gonna wait, but I think you need to tell him now, in case you don’t get another chance.” Dean’s throat tightened and his heart thundered in fear. He shook himself, because he was past that. He’d been through the fear and doubt; all he had to do to move forward was reveal his long held feelings to his best friend.

“You just worry about what you have to do, alright? I’ll handle my chick flick moment.” Sam managed to crack a small smile, but he ducked around Dean to make his way to Cas before Dean could return it. He saw Sam mumbling to Cas, and clasp his shoulder. Cas nodded, and smiled, warming Deans heart.

Then he realised what Sam was doing, the giant moose was saying _goodbye._

Frowning, Dean stalked over and made his presence known.

“Alright Sam, try not to drown Cas in your feelings.” Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean almost _felt_ the physical force of the bitch face aimed at him. He needed to make a joke, or he might do something embarrassing like fucking _cry._

He slipped down beside Cas, and watched as Sam made himself scarce. He chewed his lip, because he wanted to tell Cas _everything,_ how he made him feel, what he thought about when they were together, what the small touches and glances _meant_ to him.

He never was that good with words.

Cas was looking at him, wide eyed and smiling. His gaze raked over the crinkles at the edges of the angel’s eyes, smooth when they had first met, all those years ago in the barn. They seemed to grow with each consecutive year with the Winchesters, which tugged at the corners of Dean’s heart.

He took a chance, because like Sam had said, he might never get another.

Very slowly, making sure not to break eye contact, Dean raised a hand to caress Cas’ blood streaked cheek. Cas sighed and leaned into it, and Deans heart leapt, because that was a good sign. With his other hand, he cupped the back of Cas’ neck, gently drawing the angel closer. They were still looking at each other, Deans forest green eyes scared and on edge, while Cas’ were bright, blue and filled with awe. Dean didn’t know what he was in awe _of,_ but he could guess.

For once in his god forsaken life, Dean Winchester was trying to express his feelings, without the accompanying rage and confusion. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to try and get it.

He shivered when Cas’ breath whispered over his lips, but he never closed his eyes. He thought it was a bit weird, trying to do it with his eyes open, but he didn’t want to miss a second of what could be their first, and only, kiss.

Out of nowhere, the sheer depth of the situation engulfed him.

Cas could very well die in the next few minutes, and he was fairly sure no one was around to bring him back, at least, not now. He felt his heart stutter, and he was sure it was going to stop, but then he felt Cas’ large, comforting hand on his chest, grabbing onto the material. It grounded him, reminded him of all the times they had thought they had lost each other, only to be reunited when the other needed them the most.

He wasn’t sure who surged forwards first, but the enthusiasm Cas showed when their lips met sparked a fire in Deans belly. They couldn’t do much with Cas’ head gear in the way, but Dean made sure to make it the best damned kiss of his life. He nibbled on his bottom lip, making Cas gasp in surprise. Cas opened his mouth, inviting Deans tongue in to tussle with his own. Dean groaned into the kiss as Cas gently nipped and bit Deans lips, proving himself a lot better than Dean had expected.

He drank in the sounds, oblivious to the shit storm raging around them, because in their little bubble, it was only him and Cas.

He was drunk on Cas, head dizzy with the thought and feeling of Cas’ tongue dipping into his mouth, tasting him, touching him, _knowing him._

When they finally had to break apart for air, they were both panting, and despite the drill bits halfway inside his head, Dean could still feel Cas’ erection poking him in the thigh. Cas drew in a shaky breath, and chuckled quietly.

“We are having a proper talk after Sam removes this device, Dean.” He just laughed, because hell yeah they were having a talk. The _best_ kind of talk. That involved _no talking,_ and a _lot_ of naked.

Dean just smirked and wiggled his eyebrows, earning a snort from Cas.

“Can’t wait, Cas.”

Sam wandered back over to them, blushing furiously and dragging a chair. Sam and Dean helped Cas sit, but Dean ended up on his knees in front of him, making sure he didn’t move while Sam frowned all over the contraption encasing Cas’ head.

“Not really how I imagined being on my knees in front of you the first time, I gotta say.” Sam groaned at his brothers words, while Cas just grinned.

“I am looking forward to the next time then.” Oh god, he was so in love with the crazy, snarky son of a bitch.

“Dean, I need you to hold him still. I’m gonna go ahead and assume this is gonna hurt like hell.” Dean tried to ignore the look on Sam’s face, instead focusing on the determined set of Cas features. He was frowning, and had his lips pursed in concentration, and Dean let slip a small smile because he couldn’t believe he’d actually _kissed_ those lips.

“You ready, Cas?” Sam had his hands on the first piece, drilling into Cas’ temple. Luckily there were only five bits.

“Yes, go ahead.” Dean saw Cas tense, and _that_ was unusual. His angel wasn’t afraid of anything, so it made him nervous.

He didn’t let go of Cas’ arms though. Even if he would have to pin him down, he’d find a way to get through the pain, they both would.

Some things were worth a little pain.

Sam twisted and pulled, earning a grunt and growl from Cas. Dean watched, his stomach protesting, as Sam pulled the sharp piece of metal from his angels head.

Sam dropped the piece of metal to the floor and started on the next one. It took them a good twenty minutes, but finally, Sam was down to the last two. Cas was shaking and sweating, but he didn’t want them to stop.

“Keep going, it’s the only way.” Dean didn’t want to ask what he meant, but he could make a good guess. Get the thing off, or Cas died. Yup, awesome.

Sam started to work on the second to last piece, but stopped when Cas let out a blood curdling scream. Dean’s entire body went cold, sure that Sam had done something wrong, that his angel was dying.

“Get. It. OFF!” Cas was screaming, and it was the worst thing Dean had ever heard. It was full of righteous fury, Cas’ angelic voice trying to break through his soft, human vessel. Dean’s ears felt as if they were on fire, but he didn’t let go of the angel. He needed to keep Cas grounded, lest he burst apart into millions of molecules of celestial intent.

Sam wrenched the penultimate pin from Cas’ head, all finesse gone in his attempt to not prolong Cas’ apparent torture. Cas howled in pain, but kept his eyes open, staring above Deans head, almost as if he were seeing something they couldn’t. Dean could feel him shaking beneath his hands, so much power contained in such a fragile shell. He was worried Cas _was_ going to rip himself apart, in his true forms attempts to protect itself.

Sam caught Dean’s eye before he pulled the last piece out, and Dean saw the fear circling within them. Sam was certain he was going to kill Cas. Dean clenched his jaw, and nodded. There was no time for _what ifs,_ they had run the hourglass dry, and Cas was in pain.

Sam twisted the pin, and everything went silent. Dean could hear his and Sam’s ragged breathing, which in their line of work, was never a good sign. Dean trailed his eyes up to Cas, who was frozen in a silent scream, eyes wide and glassy. Dean looked at Sam, who hadn’t moved his hand from where it gripped the pin, halfway out.

“What should I do?” Sam sounded so scared, like the little boy who had just wet the motel bed him and Dean shared while their dad was out on a case. He did now, what he did then. Reassured him everything would be fine, even if he was having a very hard time believing it himself.

“Just keep going, maybe this is a good sign.” They both knew it wasn’t.

Sam tensed, and twisted. Dean thanked all their years of hunting ghosts for their sturdy flight or fight responses, because when Cas started spitting Enochian at them, or the room, whatever, they both nearly jumped out of their skins.

“What the hells he saying?” Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes, but his brother didn’t have any more of an idea that he did. Neither of them knew enough Enochian to understand what Cas was babbling on about, but then Sam’s eyes suddenly grew wide in recognition.

“Oh – oh _no._ ” Dean did _not_ like the tone of Sam’s voice. It held all kinds of regret, anguish and guilt. It was how Dean sounded when he escaped Purgatory, knowing he’d left Cas behind.

“So help me god, you better –” Sam cut him off, shaking his head.

“Its… shit, do you remember Samandiriel?” Dean didn’t know why the hell they were talking about a damn angel, but yeah, he did. He nodded at Sam to hurry the hell up. “I’m pretty sure it’s the same thing. Cas’ saying the same words.” Dean just shrugged, because _what?_

“But that’s ok, right? I mean, before he died, he was alright. He knew who he was and all the important stuff.” Dean was standing on a very thin ledge, and if Sam said one more word about Cas dying, he was gonna fucking leap.

Luckily, Sam seemed to get it.

“It just – It seemed important, that’s all.” Sam knew Deans moods, thank god, so he carefully restarted removing the last piece of the puzzle from Cas’ head.

Dean could tell it was almost out, judging by how thin it had become, but that just made his heart rate rise even more. It was the moment of truth, or the eye of the storm.

Sam let out a triumphant yell when the pin dropped to the floor, but Dean wasn’t watching him, he was watching Cas. _His Cas,_ who was looking at him with such sadness and pain it broke his heart.

“Please forgive me, Dean.” He didn’t – he didn’t know what Cas meant, so he stood up and grabbed his shoulder, because he looked like he was going to pass out.

“Every time, Cas, but I don’t know what –” A blinding light exploded from, well, _everywhere,_ and Dean flung an arm over his eyes. He fell as a chiming, _ear bleeding_ sound resonated around his head, and he could do nothing but lie, prone, and take it.

A part of him, the part he wouldn’t listen too, because it wasn’t _fair,_ goddamnit, knew it was Cas that was slowly killing him and Sam. He couldn’t see his brother, but he could feel him thrashing around beside him.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped.

All Dean could hear was their gasping, panting breaths, trying to crawl back to some semblance of normality. His ears _were_ bleeding, same with Sam’s, but that wasn’t his main concern. He could still hear, and think, so it was better than nothing.

Dean looked around, and saw Cas standing, brushing dust off his clothes. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief, because he had been pretty worried for a minute there. Hearing what must have been Cas true voice was _not_ something he wanted a repeat performance of.

He got to his feet, albeit unsteadily, and went to help Sam who still looked a bit dazed. Sam waved him off, and sat himself against a pillar. “Go talk to Cas, make sure he’s alright.” Typical Sam, putting others first.

Dean made his way over to Cas, but frowned a little as the angel turned and locked eyes with him. There was something… _missing,_ in them, something he couldn’t place.

“You gave us a bit of a scare there, Cas. You alright now?” Dean smiled, and he immediately knew something was wrong, when Cas didn’t return it. “Cas?”

“My name is Castiel.”

Dean felt the floor drop out from under his feet, and he was sure he was going back to hell. A feeling of pure _pain_ almost overcame him, when he realised whatever was standing in front of him, wasn’t _his_ Cas.

The angel continued like he hadn’t just ripped Dean’s heart out and flayed it.

“Thank you, Samuel, for ridding me of that contraption. It completed its true purpose. I am now reborn. My brothers and sisters will accept me back into the host and for that, I am most grateful.” Dean was staring at Cas, but he couldn’t even _breathe,_ let alone form coherent sentences. Sam seemed in the same position.

Cas just looked at them, and tilted his head, so reminiscent of how he used to be, _should have been,_ that Dean felt his heart break even more.

“I must go. My work with you two has been finished for many years; I’m not sure why I stayed longer than I should have.” Cas cast his uninterested gaze over Dean, who felt his body shaking at an atomic level. Dean didn’t know what Cas was saying, his wings were broken, destroyed when the angels fell.

Cas answered that question, without really meaning to, it seemed.

A sudden darkness fell, and Dean had a moment of fear, a flash back to when the darkness overcame them in the Impala. Cas’ wings, his beautiful, _terrifying_ wings _,_ spread out behind him. Lightening cracked from god knows where. The shadowy black holes of holy power furled and unfurled as Cas cast his eyes to the side, looking as if he were enjoying the mere mortals reactions.

“Goodbye, Winchesters, and good luck.”

Cas was gone in the blink of an eye, a soft rustling all that signalled his exit. Dean felt his legs fall from under him, but somehow Sam was there, letting him sink down with some grace.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.” Dean just shook his head, because he stood by what he said before, it wasn’t Sam’s fault.

“No, Sam. Don’t. You had no idea that was gonna happen.” Dean cleared his throat, because he wasn’t going to let the emotions bubbling up his throat reach the surface. Sam looked at him with worry written all over his face, but Dean pushed it away. He didn’t need Sam’s pity.

He’d tried to give Cas his heart, and for a moment, _a moment,_ they had had each other. But as always, the Winchesters just weren’t allowed to have nice things.

He pushed down everything he felt, all the longing, the want, _the love._ Yeah, he was man enough to know and to acknowledge, what he had for Cas was love, if that word was even big enough to describe what they have, _had._

“There’s no point in us hanging around here. Let’s – let’s get back to the bunker. Regroup.” He wasn’t looking at Sam, but he could feel his brothers stare. Thankfully, Sam had the sense not to question him.

“Sure, let’s go.”

* * *

 They made it back to the bunker, just in time for Dean to break. He knew he wouldn’t be able to push everything away forever, but he was hoping it’d be a few more hours. Sam left him with a look and a silent promise that he was there, if he needed him. Dean was grateful for his brother’s distance; he needed to be alone, to process, to _accept._

He shut the door and stood, frozen, in the middle of his room. He felt… _empty,_ and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He needed to _feel,_ to rage and cry and scream, but he just felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, and he was left with a hollow, gaping wound that would never heal.

He sat down on his bed, memory foam dipping to his weight. He gripped it, the mattress grounding him more than anything else. He felt a burning, tightening of his throat, followed by a chest heaving sob. He was glad Sam wasn’t there to see him break, but he would have done it in front of Cas. His angel would have comforted him, told him to be strong and let it out.

The thought of Cas, and what they could have had, broke the damn. Tears overflowed, sliding down his face at an unrelenting pace. He didn’t bother stopping them; he knew they had to run their course. He held his head in his hands as he shook, trying to gasp in a breath. The last few years were slipping through his fingers, all the emotions, all the times they had stood too close, stared too intensely, a touch that lingered too long.

Everything was tainted, white washed with a pain so great his body and mind didn’t know how to handle it.

Sam found him; he didn’t know how much time had passed, enough for him to be stiff and numb on the floor by his bed, anyway. His brother cradled him close, like a damn baby, but Dean was so glad for the comfort of his stupidly long arms. He felt the comfort and safety he only experienced with Sam.

“You’ll get through this, Dean, you have to.” Sam rubbed his back, and leaned them back against the bed. “You got through hell, you got through purgatory, we stopped the _apocalypse_ for fuck sake. I know it hurts like hell, but you’ll be ok.” Sam sounded so damn sure, but Dean wasn’t. Yeah, he had got through all those things, but the one thing Sam forgot to mention, was that _Cas_ was there beside him, through all of it.

“That’s the thing Sammy. I don’t know if I can do it without him.” Dean tucked his face into Sam’s neck, and let his tears fall. “I’ll do it, because I have to, to protect your sorry ass, but I can’t promise I’ll be ok.”

* * *

 For the first few weeks, Dean told himself Cas would come back by himself.

As the months dragged by… what little hope he had, fled with the angel that had taken his heart with him.

* * *

 “Dude, are you drunk?” Sam’s voice was too loud, why couldn’t he just leave him alone.

They were in the middle of some case, fuck knows what it was, but Sam seemed to be handling it. No point being sober when he didn’t have to be.

“Course I am. What’s it to you?” He squinted up at his brother, who was frowning something fierce. Almost reminded him of –

Nope, but another drink sounded fucking _fantastic_.

“I need your help, that’s what. The ghost isn’t in its bones; it must be connected to an object.” He snatched the bottle of jack from Deans hand, and he just blinked at his brother because how _dare he._ “I _need_ you to sober up and come with me to look for it.” Dean grumbled from where he was slumped against the tiny table in their shitty little hotel room.

Sam didn’t let him drive, much to his disgust, but he saw the point. His baby was pretty much the only nice thing he had left, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The house they pulled up to was decrepit and almost decomposing, a perfect hide out for an angry ghost. Apparently some kids had broken into the house and woken the sucker up, so now they had to clean up the mess.

Dean had a headache creeping in by the time Sam found the diary and set it alight. He just wanted to go back to the hotel and drink until he was unconscious.

He knew it was hurting Sam, but it was nothing compared to the mess inside him. It was like a wound that wouldn’t heal, festering under his skin, poisoning his blood, one day at a time.

The months had passed in a drunken blur. He had managed to hide it at first, but him and Sam had been traveling together for too long. Sam knew him inside and out.

At first, he had been sympathetic, talked to him about how things would get better; he just had to give it time. Then it turned to concern, when he wasn’t getting better. Eventually, as Dean knew it would, it turned to anger. Sam was sick of seeing his brother try and drink himself to death, even if he wasn’t meaning too.

“I need to know what’s happening, Dean.” They had made it back to the hotel, but Dean had to endure Sam’s bitch face the whole way. He wasn’t sure he even knew what was happening to him, but he thought maybe if he explained what he decided to Sam, he would leave him alone to wallow in peace.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sam.” He saw his brother’s confused face, so soldiered on despite the thundering headache he still sported. “I can’t live like this, you’ve seen me, hell, I know you’ve heard me at night. I can’t go on like this.” He drew in a shuddering breath, and realised only then that he was crying. God fucking damnit. “There’s only one option I can see.” Sam’s eyes widened in apparent horror, as he took Deans the totally wrong way.

“You told me that was never an option for us. You said no matter what, you’d never leave me behind.” Dean was confused for a moment, but quickly clicked onto what Sam thought he meant.

“What? Oh, fuck no, Sam. God, I’d never do that to you. Hell, someone’s gotta stay behind to protect your ass.” Dean attempted a smile, to show his brother that _no,_ he wasn’t going to off himself. “Dude, what I meant was, I’m gonna get Cas to wipe my memory of him.” Sam just… stared at him.

“You – you’d take away all your memories together, just to stop hurting?” It was as simple as that, yeah, he would.

“I can’t explain it to you, Sam. It’s a pain that isn’t just in my body, its eating away at my mind as well. I’m blacking out, and it’s not just when I drink. Whole – whole days go by that I can’t remember, and sometimes I wonder what’s the point? He’s not there, so why bother? Then I see you… and I know I have to keep going, but I can’t go on _like this.”_ He hadn’t meant to get so emotional, but if it made Sam see the logic of what he had to do, then so be it.

“I – I understand, I think. Your right, I mean, nothings worked, so I guess… it’s pretty extreme though, right?” Sam couldn’t get his words out, and Dean understood. He was pretty scared when he had decided as well.

“It’s the only way, Sam.”

* * *

 They called him when they had a break between cases, and the Darkness was quite, for once. Even Crowley and Rowena weren’t making their usual noise. All was quiet on the Western Front, Sam had said. Dean didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

Sam had Dean do it, because he said he was ‘better at praying’. Hell if he knew what that meant. He did it anyway, because he wanted the pain to stop, one way, or another.

Cas appeared, and all the fears and heartache fell away. The man standing before him was his angel in every way. Same bright blue eyes, same tousled black hair. It made Deans heart ache in a not entirely unpleasant way. He could almost fool himself into thinking it was months ago, and everything was still the same.

Until the angel opened his mouth, and shattered that dream.

“We are in the middle of a _war,_ Dean. What makes you think you can just call on me whenever you wish?” Cas looked _pissed,_ but he didn’t have to come. He could have just ignored the prayer.

“You came, though. I mean, that’s gotta mean something, right?” Dean smiled, and hoped like hell he’d get one back. He wanted just one more before he wiped his mind clean. One more to make his heart soar like a friggen bird.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, _Dean._ ” Cas _glared_ at him, and Dean felt his last little bit of hope shrivel up and die. “I serve heaven, I don’t serve man. And I certainly don’t serve you.”

He knew it was selfish, wanting something so drastic just to make himself stop being in pain. It was all he could think of, though, because he knew he couldn’t continue on the way he was. All the anger, the lies, the constant ring of _I’m fine_ to Sam. He had to stop the pain inside him, the pain of knowing he had come so close to finding his happily ever after, only to have it snatched away by some cruel twist of a pin.

He had to do it now, or he might not get another chance.

Funny how life worked like that.

“Cas? Uh, can you do one thing for me? That’s why we called you. Then – then you never have to see us again. We’ll – we’ll never contact you again.” The words hurt him, as did Sam’s look of pity and tense anticipation. He was obviously preparing himself to back Dean up. He knew Sam wouldn’t begrudge him what he wanted. He knew how much he was hurting.

“What? I am fighting a _war,_ Dean. One that _you_ started, might I add.” God, Cas sounded so mechanically angry, like some robot had replaced him before their very eyes. He thought he would have got used to it over the months since it happened, but no, no such luck.

“I need you to wipe yourself from my memory.” Dean heard Sam’s resigned sigh beside him, but luckily, his brother said nothing. Cas just looked at him, and raised two fingers to his forehead. The fact that he didn’t even put up a fight _hurt,_ but he _had_ come to accept that recently. Whatever was standing in front of them wasn’t _his_ Cas, not anymore.

“Are you sure about this, Dean?” Sam finally voiced his concern, but he heard a hint of relief in there as well. It had been hard on Sam, seeing Deans downwards spiral, not knowing how to fix the hole inside his brother.

“It’s the only way.” There wasn’t any better explanation, and there didn’t need to be. Dean had made up his mind, better to never have known love, than be hurt by its ghost for all his miserable life.

He nodded at Cas, who frowned, and Dean swore he saw a spark of _something_ behind those hard, calculating blue eyes. It was gone in an instant, probably just Dean’s mind trying to find a piece of his angel somewhere in the shell standing before him.

“Do it.”

As Cas’ fingers touched his skin, a flash of piercing light erupted behind Deans eyes. He closed them and opened his mouth in what he hoped was a silent scream. Bits and pieces of memory flashed through his mind, almost too fast for him to see.

Some, though, he couldn’t help but notice.

The last time Cas had seemed to die, that moment when the angels fell.

Their time in Purgatory, when everything had seemed so damn hopeless, and even then Cas had chosen to save Dean instead of himself.

The god damned Leviathans, watching Cas wade into the lake and then fucking _explode._

He kept that trench coat, the only part of Cas he had left.

The first time his heart broke, seeing Cas blown to pieces by Lucifer, in Stull Cemetery. He had never known such pain, his stint in hell seemed like a holiday compared to that.

All through their memories he flew, higher and higher until the light eclipsed everything, taking all of his most precious, heart achingly beautiful moments with it. Because that was all he had left of his angel, and now they were gone too.

He gladly took the hand of his subconscious, its sad smile telling him everything would be bearable now, that he could move on and do the job he’d been trained for.

* * *

 Sam’s head jerked up from where it was resting against the massive tome he’d been going through. They hadn’t had a hunt in weeks, but it never hurt to brush up. He blinked blearily at the stumbling mass of limbs trying and failing to creep quietly through the Bunker.

Sam narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth, because he was so _done_ with Deans bullshit.

No normal person would have had their memory erased instead of actually _dealing_ with their feelings. He wasn’t going to stop Dean, though. He saw what it did to him over the course of those months, and it very nearly killed him a few times.

But it didn’t seem to have worked, because he was _still_ drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Although the shitty thing was, because of what Cas did, Dean didn’t even remember what he was so depressed _about._

“Sammy?” He heard Dean whisper, _loudly,_ from the entrance hall, so he sighed and made his way over to his drunk mess of a brother. When he saw the state of him, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t naked, like last time. That had been… all kinds of awkward, especially since Dean was a _clingy_ drunk.

“Hey bud, let’s get you to bed.” He was so used to Dean looking after him; it felt strange having the tables turned. Dean looked like he was going to follow, but instead he reached out and grasped Sam’s arm.

“Why does it hurt so much? I don’t know _why,_ Sammy.” He felt his heart break at the hopeless, broken tone of his brother voice. Dean, who was always so strong and sure, sounded like a lost child in the middle of a mall at Christmas. He was just so _angry,_ at himself, even though he knew Dean didn’t blame him for what happened, at Cas for becoming what Dean hated and at Dean, for trying to destroy himself through whatever means he could find.

It was such a fucked up situation, and the only person he knew could fix it, wasn’t answering.

Sam eventually managed to get Dean into bed, but as he closed the door, he couldn’t help but hear Deans quiet sobbing. It was breaking them apart, what Dean had done to himself. He even preferred angry, drunken Dean to confused, depressed Dean. He needed to get Cas to undo the angel magic he’d cast on his brother, otherwise Dean was going to do something drastic that neither of them could come back from.

He made his way downstairs to the garage, where the spells keeping the angels out were weakest. He needed to try him again, because he was the only one who could, or _would,_ fix the shit storm they were in.

“Castiel, I hope you can hear me, and if you can, well, you’re an asshole for ignoring me.” Dean had always been the one to pray, so Sam was a bit rusty. He was sure the angel wouldn’t mind. “I’m gonna be honest here, Deans in a bad way. Whatever you did to him, well, it back fired and now he’s just confused and – and I don’t even know. I’m – I’m really worried about him. Please, you have to come down and fix him.” Sam knew it was a long shot, hell, he’d been praying for weeks, as soon as he’d seen whatever Cas had done wasn’t working the way they thought it would have.

But it still hurt when there was no answer, no swishing of wings or crunch of gravel. Yeah, they had promised to never contact him again, but it was _Cas,_ surely he had some semblance of himself left?

Sam wiped a hand over his face and closed his eyes. He had to figure out another way to help Dean, before someone had to climb back into hell to drag him out.

He stood, because there was no point shivering his ass off when no one was coming, and went to close the garage. Just as he was about to press the button, his eyes caught movement in the shadows. Slowly, his hand crept around and clasped the blade hidden in his belt.

“Just come out, I know you’re there.” Sam was too tired to play games. Whatever it was hiding in the shadows, he hoped it would hurry up so he could go to bed. Not to sleep, but to try and make a plan for Dean.

Sam’s eyes widened when the figure stalked out of the shadows, and he could understand why it hadn’t said anything, because he wouldn’t have believed it was anything more than a trick.

“Cas?” He said it as a question, simply because he didn’t know which version of the angel he was looking at. Was it roboCas, who had stolen not only their friend, but Dean’s hope of love? Or _their Cas,_ who had stolen Deans heart.

Goddamnit all to hell he was getting sappy in his old age.

“Sam,” Cas smiled, and he immediately knew which one had come back to them. He ran forward and embraced his old friend, not questioning how Cas was better. But he was burning to know, and Cas seemed to sense his curiosity.

“Up in Heaven, my brethren were constantly telling me that something was wrong, something was _missing_ from me. I couldn’t explain it, so I went to Joshua, to see if he knew what was plaguing me. He took one look at me and shook his head. He put his hands on me and… I had not taken Deans memories from myself, and I didn’t know _why._ When Joshua touched me… everything came flooding back. I was reset, Sam, but back to how I was _supposed_ to be, not the unfeeling, junkless asshat Dean hated so much.” Sam was in shock, he was sure of it, because shit didn’t happen like that for the Winchesters. They didn’t get a second chance, well, not if it didn’t include one or both of them dying, anyway.

“Dude, you have no idea how good it is to see you.” Sam patted his friends back, and steered him further inside the bunker. He needed to get Cas to Dean pronto, because it would be just their luck to have their salvation handed to them, and find Dean had blown his brains out just as they opened the door.

He doubted even Cas could save Dean from a bullet to the brain.

“I am sorry it took me so long, Heaven has been… hectic, since the darkness was taken care of.” Cas sounded evasive when he said it, and they still hadn’t quite figured out how the angels had stopped the darkness. Dean had been in no fit state to help anyone, and Sam had had his hands full making sure his brother didn’t drown in his own vomit.

“It’s all good man, you’re here now.” Sam couldn’t help but grin, because Cas was _back,_ and that meant he could fix Dean. If… if he wanted to. He hadn’t thought of that possibility, what if Cas didn’t want Dean to remember?

“Can you… why are you here, Cas?” Sam took a step back from the angel, trying to prepare himself for the worst. As Winchesters, they had come to expect that from their situations.

“I want – I want to fix what I did to Dean, Sam. But I – I don’t know how. Is he – is he happy? Not knowing? I remember everything and I – I just want him to be happy, with or without his memories.” Sam could have slapped him, because seriously? After all the years and crap they had been through, the two of them were _still_ going to dance around the elephant in the room, _naked._

“Cas, he is a _mess,_ he doesn’t even know what’s hurting him, but I can tell whatever you did, didn’t work. Some part of him is holding on, your… what did you call it, _profound bond?_ Is probably to blame. You marked his soul, Cas, and I don’t think anyone ever really forgets when someone does that.” He really was pulling theories out of his ass, but something seemed to click with Cas, because his eyes suddenly seemed brighter, more hopeful.

“What do _you_ think he wants, Sam? You know him better than anyone, what would he want, if he could voice it?” Sam just shook his head, and couldn’t help the rueful smile that spread across his face.

“What he’s always wanted.” Cas just stared at him, and he wasn’t surprised at having to spell it out.

“Which is?” For having all the knowledge in the universe, angels sure were dumb fucks.

“You.”

* * *

 Sam didn’t _understand._

Drinking was his only escape.

It softened the pain inside him to just a dull ache, to something he could hope to block out and actually get some rest for once.

He remembered, vaguely, Sam helping him to his bed. He hadn’t rolled off it, like he had so many other times. The dreams made him move, toss and turn until he fell into a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor. The faceless man running from him, just out of reach, haunted him everywhere he went. He hadn’t told Sam it was slowly driving him feral, but he had a suspicion that Sam knew anyway. Brothers were like that.

He didn’t close his eyes, didn’t want to, in case his ghostly buddy decided it was time to say hi again. Maybe that was how Sam felt, when he could see Lucifer. Always there, taunting, screaming silently, but never able to be vanquished. Not that he wanted his nightmare buddy to leave, weirdly enough. He made him feel… less _alone,_ somehow. He couldn’t explain it, and he wondered if it was just another symptom of his impending mental breakdown. Hell, he was due for one.

He heard Sam walking down the hall, but –

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, because Sam wasn’t alone. He didn’t sound like he was fighting anything, but he did sound like he was in a rush. Drunk or not, if Sam needed him, he needed to be ready. He struggled out of bed, stumbling around in the dark as he tried to put his pants on.

When he was finally dressed, he found the knife he kept under his pillow and made his way slowly to the door. He had his hand on the door knob, and was turning it, trying to not make any noise, when it suddenly flew out of his grasp. He stumbled backwards, cursing himself for not turning on his light. He hit the bed with a grunt, knife held out in front of him.

He bit back a wince when the light came on, revealing not only a startled looking Sam, but a stranger in a tan over coat looking at him in… sadness?

“Sam? What the hell man?” He didn’t take his eyes off the stranger, because there was something _about_ him, something.... familiar. “Who’s your friend?” Dean jerked his head forward, indicating the other guy. His frown seemed to deepen when Dean voiced he didn’t recognise who he was.

“Uh, it’s kinda hard to explain, but he’s here to help you.” Sam looked shifty as hell, and Dean didn’t like it. He narrowed his eyes, because like hell Sam was gonna try some Hoodoo magic crap on him without explaining exactly what was gonna be going down.

“Help me how, exactly? You go get some back water priest to do some Hoodoo ritual on me? I’m not _sick,_ Sam. You can’t fix me.” He finally turned to his brother, who was looking down at the floor. It could have been in shame, or embarrassment, Dean didn’t know. What he _did_ know, was the weirdo in the trench coat just took a step closer to him.

“He cannot, your right, Dean.” He resisted the urge to stab the guy, purely on principle. He wasn’t interested in whatever he had to say. He just wanted to go to sleep. “But I can.” Dean’s gaze shot up from where it had landed on the guy’s outreached hand, right to his bluer than blue eyes, and something fucking _moved_ within him.

“What are you gonna do?” Dean was frozen, and he couldn’t make sense of it. It was hard to believe Sam actually trusted the guy, or he was so desperate to save him that he would try anything. He still had his knife in his hand, but he suddenly didn’t think he would actually use it on the guy. Yeah, he seemed powerful and scary as hell, but Dean wasn’t actually _scared,_ as opposed to respectful.

“If you’ll allow me, I will fix what has been plaguing you, Dean.” He didn’t know what the hell the guy had done, but for some reason, he trusted him. It was like an instinct, something he didn’t consciously decide to do; rather, it was something that had been there all along.

He stood in front of the guy, and let the knife clatter to the floor.

“Do it.” He watched the man wince that time, and Dean wondered for a moment if he didn’t want him to talk. Every thought he had went out the window when the man put two fingers on Dean’s forehead, and closed his eyes.

A blinding, almost painful flash of pure white light lit up everything, and he was for a moment, worried about Sam. Until he realised the light was coming from _inside_ his own body.

He just stared straight ahead as everything flooded… _back,_ like it had been lost, somehow, but the angel in front of him had managed to find all the scattered pieces of him, and put them back together.

Because that was what he was, an angel.

He was… he was _his angel._

_He was Castiel._

_Cas._

“Cas.” The fingers left his head, and a relieved sigh escaped everyone in the room, albeit for different reasons. For Dean, it was seeing his angel again; whole, alive and looking at him with such a fondness in his expression, Dean knew exactly which version he was talking too.

“I think it’s about time we had that talk, Dean.”

* * *

 Sam left them, with a reassuring pat to Cas’ shoulder and a hug from Dean.

Dean didn’t know how Cas was fixed, and he didn’t especially care. All he knew was all the courage he felt those long months ago when he was going to tell Cas how he felt about him, suddenly came flooding back. He kinda wished he had that when he was drinking himself into oblivion.

“I need to tell you something, Cas.” The angel tilted his head, and looked at Dean, a small smile on his face. Dean’s heart was hammering, fear and excitement battling it out for dominance. Then, the insecurities wormed their way in.

What if Cas had changed his mind? It had been a long time, and as far as he knew, angels lived forever. Dean would just be a fleeting glimpse of the never ending vortex that was Cas’ existence.

“Dean, you should tell me, instead of over thinking it.” Dean couldn’t help but smirk, because even after _everything,_ Cas still knew him better than anyone, maybe even Sam.

“I don’t – I don’t really know how to say it, because what I feel can’t be said in words.” Dean dragged a hand over his face in exasperation. He sounded like a damn Hallmark card. Cas just smiled at him, and shifted closer on the bed. Dean watched as Cas slowly brought their hands into alignment, and carefully threaded their fingers together. It was such a small act, but it gave Dean the extra boost of courage he needed to get out what he needed to say.

“I love you.”

They stared at each other as Deans words washed over them, and he was suddenly terrified Cas was going to reject him. What if he didn’t understand what their kiss had been about? What if he only loved him as a brother? Could he survive getting his angelback, only to be told he had been waiting for nothing?

Dean waited… and waited… for Cas to say something. He knew the angel wouldn’t say anything without thinking it through carefully first, but that only put Dean _more_ on edge.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak, Dean thought he was going to vomit all over him.

Thankfully, the contents of his stomach stayed where they should have.

“I have observed you, over the years,” Cas started, but it gave no inclination where the conversation was going, so Dean just tensed his hand where it was still clasped in Cas’. “You have had many conquests,” He didn’t look unhappy, but his hand twitched, and Dean ducked his head. “I do not begrudge you them, Dean. Every soldier needs to find comfort somewhere. Yours just happened to be of the biblical kind.” Dean laughed, because it was _so_ true, on so many levels. “But as the years passed, I came to grow jealous of the woman entering your bed. It took me a very long time to unravel what I felt, because as you know, angels don’t feel like humans do.” Dean nodded, because angels were heartless bastards, except Cas. “When I finally realised what I felt for you, we were all distracted by defeating Metatron. I think-” Cas’ hand tightened in his, and he swallowed, causing Dean to frown. “I think when Metatron told me you had died, that was the worst moment of my existence.” Dean shuddered, because he remembered that moment, even if he didn’t want to. All he could think about was leaving Sam and Cas behind, what it would do to them, and what he hadn’t had the courage to tell Cas at that point.

“Then there was the mark, and everything that entailed. I couldn’t – I couldn’t tell you in case _it_ used my feelings against you. So I kept it hidden, despite wanting to tell you so very badly.” Cas looked at Dean, then, big blue eyes asking for forgiveness, which was dumb, because he had nothing to be sorry for.

“Dude, no. you did what you had to do. I’ll always forgive you, you know that.” Dean risked a small kiss to Cas’ cheek, and it felt so good to feel his stubble rasp across his lips. He drew back, though, because he still didn’t know how Cas felt, not one hundred percent.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means, Dean. I – I need to tell you, my brethren were right about there being something, _different,_ about me. It took me a long time to figure out what.” Dean just frowned, because if those angel dick bags were being mean to Cas again, he’d storm heaven himself to teach them a lesson.

“There aint nothing wrong with you, Cas. You are god damned perfect.” So what if he was regressing back to sappy, who was gonna know. Cas looked confused, though, which in turn confused Dean.

“No, it was a _good_ thing, what was different about me. It’s a complicated process, but it happened.” Dean just raised his eyebrows and hoped like hell he hadn’t accidently knocked Cas up or something. He didn’t know about angel sex, it could be a thing. Cas just smiled at him, and used his other hand to cup Deans cheek. “You gave me something no other angel has ever had, Dean. You gave me a soul.”

Dean was… well he was speechless, because that couldn’t be possible. How could that be possible? Cas must have taken his stunned silence as a good sign, because he picked up both of Deans hands and kissed his knuckles.

“I feel more for you than the words of your language could possibly express, but if I tried in my true voice, I would quite possibly kill you, so I can’t do that.” Cas looked downright devastated that he couldn’t tell him, so Dean laughed, despite the tears threatening to spill any moment.

“Just tell me you love me, dude.”

“I love you, dude.” Cas was, and always would be, the most accidently sarcastic person he had ever met. Dean just laughed and flung himself at the angel, _his angel,_ who quickly gathered Dean up and continued where they had left off all those long months ago.

The kiss was heated and passionate, but Dean didn’t feel rushed. He moaned when Cas breached his mouth with his tongue, and made Cas groan when he bit his lip. It was the best kiss Dean had ever experienced, and he was sure Cas was it for him. Done and dusted. They had ruined each other for everyone else, but in the best way. Dean had been so afraid of never getting his happily ever after, but he didn’t need to be. It just hadn’t been in the first place he’d looked. Cas had crept up on him, getting under his skin and into his soul.

It was good to know Dean had done the same thing to Cas. They were it for each other, and neither of them would have it any other way.

And that didn’t scare him at all, surprisingly.


End file.
